Author's Note: Right, I think you all know the drill by now. New chapter,
more angst goodness, and hopefully spanking new reviews after you are done
reading said chapter. And I'm still not Tolkien or related to him (I don't
think) but I am now leaning towards one reviewer's explanation that I tried
to steal Tolkien's work in a previous life but then was hit by a bus. That
would explain a lot of things...oh well, just read and enjoy!
Chapter 17
Gimli had returned within a few moments with Aragorn and Faramir in his wake. He had not yet told them why Legolas wished to see them, only that Legolas was now awake. Aragorn wanted to check on him and see to his wounds and make sure that he did not try too much to strain himself and cause further injury.
Gimli hung back once Aragorn and Faramir approached the Houses of Healing and then turned around altogether once they were inside. He did not think that he could stand anymore of Legolas' negative self-talk, it tore his heart to see his friend condemning himself so and not being able to knock him out of it.
So the dwarf turned from the Houses of Healing and instead went off wandering a ways, his thoughts too jumbled to even try to sort out. He would hear what Aragorn had to say after he was done talking to Legolas, that was all he would do about that.
Gimli had gone quite a few ways before he realized that he was much further from the Houses of Healing than he had intended. The dwarf paused and contemplated on going back or not when something caught the corner of his eye. Gimli turned and stared into a dark passage created between two buildings. He saw it again, a slight movement of shadow.
"Hey now, who goes there?" Gimli shouted, his hand immediately going for the smooth handle of his axe.
There was no answer, so Gimli took a step closer to the small alley. "Show yourself," he demanded.
There was the sound of minor scuffling, and then a panted breath followed by broken words. "Master Gimli? This you?"
Gimli frowned. "Bergel?"
A small shout of a mixture of joy and relief and then Bergel was out of the alley and into what little light there was, falling and clutching at Gimli's leg.
"Oh sir, good sir, thanks to the gods you are here, Gimli. I's be so scared and not knowing what to do, oh sir, thanks sir."
Gimli stopped the babble by reaching down and pulling Bergel to his feet, steadying him so that he might be able to talk to him. "Bergel," Gimli said plainly, his eyes fixed on the man.
Bergel stopped speaking but his mouth continued to hang open and he gazed back at Gimli with what looked like gratitude and admiration, as if Gimli had just saved his life.
"Bergel," Gimli said again, "tell me what is the matter."
Bergel appeared to ponder the question, as if processing it slowly through his mind. Then he took a quick look around and clutched at Gimli's shoulder, lowering his face to Gimli and whispering. "I's can't tell you here, too risky. He might hear."
A strange sense of excitement went through Gimli. He was almost certain that Bergel was talking about the murderer and that Bergel would be able to tell him who it was. Gimli nodded.
"Alright, then we shall go where it is safer."
Bergel nodded sloppily and then followed as Gimli turned and walked into the small inn off to their left. It was Gimli's favorite haunt and normally bustling with activity, but right now it was empty and the dwarf did not even see his bar-tending friend anywhere. Gimli led Bergel to a table in a far corner and they both sat down.
"Nobody can hear you in here," Gimli told Bergel.
Bergel nodded and then slowly began speaking. "I was hiding, I was trying to not be found."
"From who? Who were you trying to hide from?" Gimli questioned.
Bergel took another quick look around. "From the gold-haired elf, the one with the sharp knives. He told me that I had to tell you to go to Aragorn today, that you had to go alone and then I had to leave too. I didn't want to, I didn't want to Gimli, I know that you would be mad but I had to. He said he would hurt me more if I didn't and then he would tell Aragorn that I has lied to him."
Gimli interrupted Bergel. "When did you lie to Aragorn?"
A pained expression passed over the man's face and he whimpered slightly. "I didn't mean to," he said looking down.
Gimli reached across the table and grabbed Bergel's forearm. "It is well, I will not tell Aragorn anything you say."
Bergel nodded, but he bit his lip and continued to look frightened and pained at the same time. "It's was when Aragorn ask me when I first saw the killer, when I said that he look like Master Legolas." Bergel paused again and drew in a shaky breath. "He does look like him, but I know it's was not him and I didn't say that to Aragorn. I's was too scared to say that."
The pieces were rapidly falling into place for Gimli. "The other elf had already told you he would hurt you if you told?"
Bergel said nothing but he nodded, looking down as he did so. Gimli, on the other hand, was feeling his excitement grow. Here he had all the information he needed, all he had to do was be careful so that Bergel could understand and give him the answers he needed.
"Bergel," Gimli said. The man looked back up, his face terrified at possibilities that somebody else had already told him. "You are safe with me Bergel, nobody will harm you, but I need to know some things. Is this other elf trying to frame Legolas?"
Bergel looked uncertain.
Gimli tried again.
"Is this elf trying to hurt Legolas?"
This time understanding came through to him. "He does not like Master Legolas," he said softly.
Gimli nodded and kept his face serious. "Is this elf from Ithilien?"
Bergel was silent for a few moments and Gimli thought he did not understand again when the man finally spoke up. "I's don't think so, but I don't know really where he is from."
Gimli nodded again and desperately tried to come up with more questions, but Bergel was fidgeting. He kept looking around the deserted inn, his face becoming more and more distressed. "Master Gimli," he said as he looked around, "sir, I's want to go."
Gimli said nothing. He still wanted to ask one more question, but he could not find the right wording so that Bergel might understand it. But at this point, Bergel's agitation was becoming clear.
"Sir, we need to go, Gimli sir, I have to go, now, we need to go now." As he spoke his voice rose higher and finally he stood up violently, his chair falling to the ground as he did so. For a second, he held his hand to one of his damaged ears and let out a small cry of pain. "We's have to go now," he said again and then turned, not even waiting to see what Gimli would do.
Gimli stood up surprised. He had never seen Bergel act this distressed. It was almost like an animal of prey when they sensed a predator coming but could not see it.
By the time Gimli had stepped out of the inn and back out onto the poorly lit street, Bergel was pacing in a small circle, his arms wrapped tightly about himself, his head shaking as he whispered heatedly to himself.
Gimli stepped up to Bergel and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Bergel." The man whirled at the touch, his eyes opened wide and his breath coming in panting gasps. "Bergel, what is it, what's wrong?"
Bergel said nothing, only tried to side-step Gimli and walk away. Gimli would not let him go that easily, not when he was this close to clearing his friend's name. "Bergel, please, tell me what is wrong."
Bergel did not stop, but he shook his head fiercely. "I can't, he will hurt me again. He knows what I's have done, he knows everything."
Gimli grabbed Bergel's arm to stop him but then let go when the man let out a small cry of pain. Gimli stared a moment before grabbing the arm again and pulling up the man's tattered sleeve.
A red yet very precise line in the man's flesh met his gaze.
Gimli looked up at Bergel's face. The man's eyes were tightly closed and his teeth were grinding in what Gimli guessed was an effort to keep his face straight and his tongue from saying anything.
"Did he do this to you?" Gimli asked. "The golden-haired elf who killed the others?"
Bergel nodded though he kept his eyes closed. His features suddenly broke and the man let out a gasping sob.
"And now he's gonna kill me," he said before dissolving into tears.
Gimli was shocked. He took a quick look around for himself, making sure that nobody was in their vicinity. He took a hold of both of Bergel's shoulders.
"Bergel," he said loudly to be heard through the gasping sobs. "Bergel," he said again when there was no response. Cautiously, Bergel opened his eyes a slit. Gimli stared straight back at him. He spoke calmly, "Bergel, nothing is going to happen to you. I will protect you myself. You will not be alone until this elf is caught and brought to justice."
Bergel let a pathetic smile crack his lips and he looked at Gimli with what the dwarf could have sworn was pity. "That is nice sir Gimli," he said in between choked breaths, "but he will never be caught."
With that, the man suddenly tore out of Gimli's grip and lurched to the side, stumbling as he did so in his haste to get by the dwarf.
Gimli turned with him, his hand held out in an effort to steady the man and hold him still at the same time. He was well aware of the hysterics the man was going through and he felt that Bergel might injure himself if left alone.
Gimli reached out for Bergel but soon found himself fighting for balance when an unexpected shove from the disoriented man sent him reeling. "No," Bergel shouted before breaking out into a sloppy run hampered by his usual limp.
Gimli steadied himself a second later and immediately started off after Bergel. His main thought was on settling the man down and then getting some more information out of him when he was more clear-headed.
"Bergel!" Gimli shouted after the man, his short stride quickly covering the distance between them.
But just as Gimli was about to grab onto Bergel, the man banked to the left and Gimli easily followed, not thrown in the slightest by the change in the direction. But what stopped him next was not from Bergel.
There was a fraction of a second when Gimli's senses suddenly diverted from Bergel and snapped to something else, but it was already far too late.
A small thread of what felt like fire passed through his shoulder.
Gimli stopped running and forgot where he was for a second, forgot why he was out on the streets of Gondor in the middle of the night running after a man when he should be inside either enjoying an ale with Legolas or discussing light issues with Aragorn.
And then his shoulder exploded.
Or that's what it felt like.
Gimli's body snapped back automatically from where it had pitched forward and he found himself falling to the ground, the force of the impact of fire on his shoulder bearing him down.
When he was down, though he discovered he was not entirely down, he had somehow managed to brace himself with an arm and remain on one knee, Gimli finally thought to look over at his shoulder. And quickly realized why it felt like fire and a battering ram at the same time.
An arrow was lodged through it.
It had gone through and pierced both sides of his arm but had not gone all the way through. Gimli had his tough shoulder-guards and equally tough skin to thank for that.
But even though he now knew what it was, there was one thing that still did not make sense. Where had it come from?
Slowly, Gimli turned his head, his body turning halfway with him. He did not bother to even try to get up, he was not preparing to fight back, he just wanted to know where it came from.
About fifty paces away from him Gimli found his answer.
Legolas stood there, his mighty bow drawn in his hands, another arrow held loosely between his fingertips.
Chapter 17
Gimli had returned within a few moments with Aragorn and Faramir in his wake. He had not yet told them why Legolas wished to see them, only that Legolas was now awake. Aragorn wanted to check on him and see to his wounds and make sure that he did not try too much to strain himself and cause further injury.
Gimli hung back once Aragorn and Faramir approached the Houses of Healing and then turned around altogether once they were inside. He did not think that he could stand anymore of Legolas' negative self-talk, it tore his heart to see his friend condemning himself so and not being able to knock him out of it.
So the dwarf turned from the Houses of Healing and instead went off wandering a ways, his thoughts too jumbled to even try to sort out. He would hear what Aragorn had to say after he was done talking to Legolas, that was all he would do about that.
Gimli had gone quite a few ways before he realized that he was much further from the Houses of Healing than he had intended. The dwarf paused and contemplated on going back or not when something caught the corner of his eye. Gimli turned and stared into a dark passage created between two buildings. He saw it again, a slight movement of shadow.
"Hey now, who goes there?" Gimli shouted, his hand immediately going for the smooth handle of his axe.
There was no answer, so Gimli took a step closer to the small alley. "Show yourself," he demanded.
There was the sound of minor scuffling, and then a panted breath followed by broken words. "Master Gimli? This you?"
Gimli frowned. "Bergel?"
A small shout of a mixture of joy and relief and then Bergel was out of the alley and into what little light there was, falling and clutching at Gimli's leg.
"Oh sir, good sir, thanks to the gods you are here, Gimli. I's be so scared and not knowing what to do, oh sir, thanks sir."
Gimli stopped the babble by reaching down and pulling Bergel to his feet, steadying him so that he might be able to talk to him. "Bergel," Gimli said plainly, his eyes fixed on the man.
Bergel stopped speaking but his mouth continued to hang open and he gazed back at Gimli with what looked like gratitude and admiration, as if Gimli had just saved his life.
"Bergel," Gimli said again, "tell me what is the matter."
Bergel appeared to ponder the question, as if processing it slowly through his mind. Then he took a quick look around and clutched at Gimli's shoulder, lowering his face to Gimli and whispering. "I's can't tell you here, too risky. He might hear."
A strange sense of excitement went through Gimli. He was almost certain that Bergel was talking about the murderer and that Bergel would be able to tell him who it was. Gimli nodded.
"Alright, then we shall go where it is safer."
Bergel nodded sloppily and then followed as Gimli turned and walked into the small inn off to their left. It was Gimli's favorite haunt and normally bustling with activity, but right now it was empty and the dwarf did not even see his bar-tending friend anywhere. Gimli led Bergel to a table in a far corner and they both sat down.
"Nobody can hear you in here," Gimli told Bergel.
Bergel nodded and then slowly began speaking. "I was hiding, I was trying to not be found."
"From who? Who were you trying to hide from?" Gimli questioned.
Bergel took another quick look around. "From the gold-haired elf, the one with the sharp knives. He told me that I had to tell you to go to Aragorn today, that you had to go alone and then I had to leave too. I didn't want to, I didn't want to Gimli, I know that you would be mad but I had to. He said he would hurt me more if I didn't and then he would tell Aragorn that I has lied to him."
Gimli interrupted Bergel. "When did you lie to Aragorn?"
A pained expression passed over the man's face and he whimpered slightly. "I didn't mean to," he said looking down.
Gimli reached across the table and grabbed Bergel's forearm. "It is well, I will not tell Aragorn anything you say."
Bergel nodded, but he bit his lip and continued to look frightened and pained at the same time. "It's was when Aragorn ask me when I first saw the killer, when I said that he look like Master Legolas." Bergel paused again and drew in a shaky breath. "He does look like him, but I know it's was not him and I didn't say that to Aragorn. I's was too scared to say that."
The pieces were rapidly falling into place for Gimli. "The other elf had already told you he would hurt you if you told?"
Bergel said nothing but he nodded, looking down as he did so. Gimli, on the other hand, was feeling his excitement grow. Here he had all the information he needed, all he had to do was be careful so that Bergel could understand and give him the answers he needed.
"Bergel," Gimli said. The man looked back up, his face terrified at possibilities that somebody else had already told him. "You are safe with me Bergel, nobody will harm you, but I need to know some things. Is this other elf trying to frame Legolas?"
Bergel looked uncertain.
Gimli tried again.
"Is this elf trying to hurt Legolas?"
This time understanding came through to him. "He does not like Master Legolas," he said softly.
Gimli nodded and kept his face serious. "Is this elf from Ithilien?"
Bergel was silent for a few moments and Gimli thought he did not understand again when the man finally spoke up. "I's don't think so, but I don't know really where he is from."
Gimli nodded again and desperately tried to come up with more questions, but Bergel was fidgeting. He kept looking around the deserted inn, his face becoming more and more distressed. "Master Gimli," he said as he looked around, "sir, I's want to go."
Gimli said nothing. He still wanted to ask one more question, but he could not find the right wording so that Bergel might understand it. But at this point, Bergel's agitation was becoming clear.
"Sir, we need to go, Gimli sir, I have to go, now, we need to go now." As he spoke his voice rose higher and finally he stood up violently, his chair falling to the ground as he did so. For a second, he held his hand to one of his damaged ears and let out a small cry of pain. "We's have to go now," he said again and then turned, not even waiting to see what Gimli would do.
Gimli stood up surprised. He had never seen Bergel act this distressed. It was almost like an animal of prey when they sensed a predator coming but could not see it.
By the time Gimli had stepped out of the inn and back out onto the poorly lit street, Bergel was pacing in a small circle, his arms wrapped tightly about himself, his head shaking as he whispered heatedly to himself.
Gimli stepped up to Bergel and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Bergel." The man whirled at the touch, his eyes opened wide and his breath coming in panting gasps. "Bergel, what is it, what's wrong?"
Bergel said nothing, only tried to side-step Gimli and walk away. Gimli would not let him go that easily, not when he was this close to clearing his friend's name. "Bergel, please, tell me what is wrong."
Bergel did not stop, but he shook his head fiercely. "I can't, he will hurt me again. He knows what I's have done, he knows everything."
Gimli grabbed Bergel's arm to stop him but then let go when the man let out a small cry of pain. Gimli stared a moment before grabbing the arm again and pulling up the man's tattered sleeve.
A red yet very precise line in the man's flesh met his gaze.
Gimli looked up at Bergel's face. The man's eyes were tightly closed and his teeth were grinding in what Gimli guessed was an effort to keep his face straight and his tongue from saying anything.
"Did he do this to you?" Gimli asked. "The golden-haired elf who killed the others?"
Bergel nodded though he kept his eyes closed. His features suddenly broke and the man let out a gasping sob.
"And now he's gonna kill me," he said before dissolving into tears.
Gimli was shocked. He took a quick look around for himself, making sure that nobody was in their vicinity. He took a hold of both of Bergel's shoulders.
"Bergel," he said loudly to be heard through the gasping sobs. "Bergel," he said again when there was no response. Cautiously, Bergel opened his eyes a slit. Gimli stared straight back at him. He spoke calmly, "Bergel, nothing is going to happen to you. I will protect you myself. You will not be alone until this elf is caught and brought to justice."
Bergel let a pathetic smile crack his lips and he looked at Gimli with what the dwarf could have sworn was pity. "That is nice sir Gimli," he said in between choked breaths, "but he will never be caught."
With that, the man suddenly tore out of Gimli's grip and lurched to the side, stumbling as he did so in his haste to get by the dwarf.
Gimli turned with him, his hand held out in an effort to steady the man and hold him still at the same time. He was well aware of the hysterics the man was going through and he felt that Bergel might injure himself if left alone.
Gimli reached out for Bergel but soon found himself fighting for balance when an unexpected shove from the disoriented man sent him reeling. "No," Bergel shouted before breaking out into a sloppy run hampered by his usual limp.
Gimli steadied himself a second later and immediately started off after Bergel. His main thought was on settling the man down and then getting some more information out of him when he was more clear-headed.
"Bergel!" Gimli shouted after the man, his short stride quickly covering the distance between them.
But just as Gimli was about to grab onto Bergel, the man banked to the left and Gimli easily followed, not thrown in the slightest by the change in the direction. But what stopped him next was not from Bergel.
There was a fraction of a second when Gimli's senses suddenly diverted from Bergel and snapped to something else, but it was already far too late.
A small thread of what felt like fire passed through his shoulder.
Gimli stopped running and forgot where he was for a second, forgot why he was out on the streets of Gondor in the middle of the night running after a man when he should be inside either enjoying an ale with Legolas or discussing light issues with Aragorn.
And then his shoulder exploded.
Or that's what it felt like.
Gimli's body snapped back automatically from where it had pitched forward and he found himself falling to the ground, the force of the impact of fire on his shoulder bearing him down.
When he was down, though he discovered he was not entirely down, he had somehow managed to brace himself with an arm and remain on one knee, Gimli finally thought to look over at his shoulder. And quickly realized why it felt like fire and a battering ram at the same time.
An arrow was lodged through it.
It had gone through and pierced both sides of his arm but had not gone all the way through. Gimli had his tough shoulder-guards and equally tough skin to thank for that.
But even though he now knew what it was, there was one thing that still did not make sense. Where had it come from?
Slowly, Gimli turned his head, his body turning halfway with him. He did not bother to even try to get up, he was not preparing to fight back, he just wanted to know where it came from.
About fifty paces away from him Gimli found his answer.
Legolas stood there, his mighty bow drawn in his hands, another arrow held loosely between his fingertips.